


Shatter Me

by yersifanel



Series: This is ourselves [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Al Sah-him Does What He Wants, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Constantine is so Done, Crazy Barry, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, League of Assassins Barry, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersifanel/pseuds/yersifanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past. He is forgotten. </p><p>(He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ra's Al Ghul reminded him way too much of a broken record.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter Me

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a little more insight as to why Earth-?? Barry (I might call it Earth-42) is the way he is in this Universe. This is situated after he is taken to the league to prevent him from dying (and failing in doing so) and how Oliver tried to fix that (and spectacularly failed in doing so) rearranging their lives in the pretty little mess they are right now.
> 
> So, right before Barry starts Universe hopping to fix their lives, he goes pretty much insane and copes with Oliver fading in and out from Ra’s al Ghul’s ideas by making pin cushions out of people and making geeky references, must be Thursday.

Barry doesn't remember dying, or what came afterwards, at least not at first.

When he regains consciousness, his body is aching, his mouth tastes like ashes and blood, breathing is a monumental effort and his head hurts way too much, yet all those things are mere inconveniences.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

He fluttered his eyes a few times, slowly adjusting his sight to the light around him. It's dim yet natural, casted by torches most likely. He's lying on a bed with far too many covers around him and still feels cold. The room is not familiar, but the man besides him on it is.

"Oliver," he whispers, his throat is hoarse and his mouth is dry, it hurts to talk.

There are cuts and scratches all over Oliver's face and dark bruises around his throat. His stare is strong, calculated, looking for something that Barry can't put a name on.

"How do you feel?" It's a loaded question, Barry can tell.

Instead of answering, he looks around. The room is polish rock and he can see the natural angles of the place and smell the humidity of the once cave turned fortress. He tried to lift his arms only to find he's unable to; there are several soft scarves tied around his wrists and over them securing his wrist, shackles. Blinking, he tugs at one of them, making the chains rattle, a silent question as he looks at Oliver.

"How do you feel, Barry?" he repeats as if the younger man wasn't literally shackled to the bed.

He narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth with a snarl. Oliver's expression hardened, but he didn't move and that only made Barry angrier.

"Take these off me," the command was hissed, but Oliver just blinked at him, "Oliver!"

Barry pulled at his restrains, there was no headboard and the chains were attached to something under the bed. He pulled as hard as he could, Oliver let him, but it was no use. He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth in anger, he wanted to hit something. Taking a deep breath, he tried to vibrate to get himself free, only to feel a jolt of pain so intense he cried out. Oliver was over him a second afterwards, planting a hand over his chest to force him to lie down.

"It won't work," he told him, "I'm sorry."

Barry stared at him in shock, "What, why? My speed! What did you do?!"

"It wasn't my doing," was his response, "Unforeseen after effect."

"After effect of what?!"

He gasped, the images coming back to him as well as the phantom pain lingering in his chest where Nyssa's dagger pierced his flesh. He remembers her face, sad and resigned, she held him while muttering something in a language he didn't understand, it felt like an apology but she was hurting him so bad he couldn’t see past the pain, the betrayal.

"She killed me," his voice sounded so broken, he hated it. "I trusted her and she killed me."

Oliver has running his fingers over his hair, his expression impassive, "She also saved you… or at least made it possible."

Barry made a strangled sound, "There were chants and... water?"

"The Lazarus' Pit," Oliver supplied. "I can't lose you."

He pulled at his restrains again in an anxious gesture, unable to remember anything clear after Nyssa. She was there a moment and the next Oliver has holding him, urging him to resist but Barry was so hurt and so tired.

"It did something to me," it wasn't a question. He could feel something wrong with him, "What happened?"

Oliver gave him a neutral look, not answering. Barry hissed at him, actually hissed in anger and felt the need to attack him, followed by realization and fear of his own reaction.

"I attacked you," his eyes catalogued the bruises and cuts on Oliver's face and neck, flexing his fingers as an afterthought, his nails were trimmed shorter than usual.

"You were confused," the rebuttal was not enough.

"I attacked everyone," vague memories of blood and hate assaulted him. Barry consumed the last vestiges of his speed, dodging the weapons of the assassins trying to stop him like they were nothing, using their own swords to finish them. "I killed them."

Well, that explained the shackles.

A childish giggle filled the room, Barry's shoulders were shaking with the contained laughter as Oliver remained impassive. The sound turned into a full laugh, manic and distorted, Barry pulled at his restrains, his eyes closed while tears ran down his face.

"You are not even lying to me," the conclusion was spoken out loud in between the broken laugh. "But your silence..."

Oliver closed his eyes, listening to Barry struggled a few more times but the shackles didn’t give in, it was useless. Barry was not even sure he was actually trying to space, he was just so angry and frustrated, his chest burn.

"I can't lose you, Barry," Oliver repeated, holding his face to force him to look into his eyes.

Barry blinked away the tears, gasping for breath, "My c-chest...!"

He tried to claw at it but the shackles held him in place, the chains not long enough to allow him leverage.

"Constantine!"

The doors banged opened and a blonde man quickly was at their side, his hands hovering over Barry. Constantine narrowed his eyes, seeing something only he understood. He pressed his hand over Barry's chest, chanting something as Barry gasped, it burned so bad.

"What is happening to him?"

"It's that pesky bloodlust you mentioned," he answered immediately. "Combined with the cursed dagger and the whole coming back from the dead thing, it's causing complications."

"Bloodlust?!" Barry shrieked, at least now he understood why he felt the need to hurt Oliver but he didn't want to at the same time.

"Easy lad, just breath," He had a British accent, Barry noted. "You already took your toll of blood, anyway."

"John..." Oliver's tone carried a warning.

Constantine rolled his eyes, "He was a soulless assassin until you called me Oliver, and he needs to understand what is happening to him," the exorcist remarked, no room for arguments.

Oliver stared at him for a long moment, but Constantine didn't back off, he didn’t even seem faced by the archer's hard gaze.

"Fine."

Oliver stood up, clearly displeased, leaving the room, closing the doors behind him as he left Barry alone with Constantine. The exorcist shrugged then his attention was full on Barry, who was looking at him with confused eyes.

"Name's Constantine," he said while taking a cigarette from his trench coat and a lighter with a complicated diagram in it, "John Constantine."

* * *

"It's poetic, I believe, that something so deadly comes from a light so bright."

Ra's Al Ghul held Barry's chin in a firm grip as the once speedster hissed and trashed like an angry animal. He was forced to kneel, three of Ra's Al Ghul's men holding him in place, the one directly behind him being Oliver.

"Nevertheless, why is this enough to disobey my will, Al Sah-him? You shall marry my daughter."

"I don't need her," the reply was quick and solid. "I have all the power I need in him."

Ra's Al Ghul narrowed his eyes, digging his nails into Barry's skin, making him wince, "Al Sa-him."

"I'm the heir to the Demon," he continued, as if the other man had not spoken, "This light belongs to me, this is my will."

Barry felt as the other let him go but he couldn't care less, the burn in his chest was making it hard to breathe again. Over him a silent debate crossed between the head of demon and his heir, it concluded after long minutes with an amused smile from the head of the demon himself.

"Masha Al Ghul." Oliver's eyes showed surprise for a second, looking from Ra's Al Ghul to Barry. "So this is The Will of the Demon... very well, train him, for he shall be one of us."

"Nur-Taemia shall be his name," Oliver spoke and Barry really wished to understand what just happened.

Once he did, he immediately regretted his decision.

* * *

At some point, he attacked the men of the league again, Ra's Al Ghul stopped him and put him in a cell, where the process of becoming one of "them" continued.

"I lost it," he whispered to Nyssa, who was cleaning his wounds. "I just... wanted to kill."

She kept avoiding his eyes, "It will pass, you have the light inside you, you are the light and the demo's will, it will consume that desire."

"Oh, and you know because of that curse you put on me?"

Nyssa stopped for a moment, finally looking at him in the eye, "No."

Barry gave her a look, she continued, "I don't know. What Oliver did to temper the curse with the help of that man... it goes beyond my understanding, but you will contain your bloodlust as you become your new self."

"Oh please!" he snapped, "Nur-Taemia, you honestly think I'll let that happen?"

"You don't have a choice,"

She stood up, taking the medical supplies with her and walked to leave the cell, pausing as the guard open it.

"I am sorry."

Barry didn't believe her.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past.

He is forgotten.

* * *

His dreams were filled with blood and death; people he knew, strangers, and sometimes his own self.

At some point he came to the conclusion he wasn't entirely dreaming, some of those vision of death and blood were real people; strangers Ra's al Ghul sent for him to kill as part of his training.

The bloodlust was present but the light was indeed consuming it, although not fast enough to prevent him from committing murder while being train by Oliver - Al Sah-him - and Ra's Al Ghul.

The more he fought it, the quickly it consumed his senses, until the guilt was no longer present. So, to prevent himself from becoming the thing they wanted him to be, he shut down.

Of course it didn't work, he should've know better.

* * *

The shackles bit into the skin of his wrists and he ignored it, his attention focus on the light above him. Natural amber light from the outside dimly washing over his cell, the bowl of broth they intended for him unnoticed.

Calm and stiffness were broken when the heavy iron door of his cell is open and quiet steps follow. Barry sighed, knowing who is approaching.

Oliver kneels besides him, a fresh bowl of whatever they are making him eat in his hand. "You have to eat."

Barry closes his eyes when he feels Oliver running a hand through his hair, shivering.

"I don't want to forget who I am," he mumbled miserably.

"You are Nur-Taemia," both knew that was only partially true.

"Because Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past, right?" he chuckled, reciting what Ra's Al Ghul is trying to drill into his subconscious every single day, "He is forgotten."

Oliver's hand tensed over his head, making Barry look up with a silent question in his eyes. Oliver fixed his gaze on him, severely, calculated, somehow cold and determinate.

"He is forgotten."

That was Al Sah-him speaking, but Barry has not sure who he was trying to convince.

He took the bowl from his hand and ate in silence.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past.

He is forgotten.

_...Damn it._

* * *

He stopped caring at some point, he just didn't see the point, and that should've ring a bell.

The burn in his chest was pleasant now, as he moved with the sword in his hand, he even had some grace while doing it now, contrary to his first few times trying the weapon.

Still, he missed his speed.

While his own mind was dissolving he saw the changes in Oliver. The man he knew and love slipped away for only Al Sah-him to remain. Every time that happened, he clutched a hand against his chest, were Oliver's soul was nested inside him.

Constantine's explanation of what they did to the curse was, well, hard to follow was an understatement, but he managed to wrap his head around it eventually.

Nyssa used a cursed dagger to kill him, it was supposed to spill his blood and keep him in the edge between life and death. That was the easy part - and if that was the easy part, the rest was indeed nuts.

She used Barry's life as leverage against Oliver, but also offered the Lazarus' pit to heal him. Of course, she wasn't expecting Barry to actually die in the process because the damn curse she used was stronger than anticipated, not to mention the whole dagger to the chest part.

Yeah, that happened.

Barry died before they could perform ritual, because that was just his luck. Nyssa allowed Oliver to held the ritual against her better judgment, she even offered to confront Ra's Al Ghul so he didn't prevent them from doing the ritual – The head of the demon himself didn't care enough to do so anyway – as result instead of curing a mortally wounded man, they ended up bringing a dead man back to life, sans soul.

Ra's Al Ghul knew this was going to happen and the sick bastard enjoyed watching Oliver fight a feral Barry who was very adamant in killing him. He didn't enjoy so much when Barry changed targets and started killing members of the league, so he knocked him unconscious.

Oliver was too tired and emotionally compromised to even be surprised by Ra's Al Ghul actions, because of course the damn man knew about the consequences of using the pit. Instead he called in a favor, thus John Constantine paid a visit to Nanda Parbat.

His conclusions? _"This is a sodding mess, mate."_

Restoring Barry's soul was next to impossible, because the cursed dagger had shattered it. The thing was supposed to be used all together differently, it wasn't a weapon, it was an instrument for a ritual, one that Constantine had been looking for in first place, and if the Hellblazer was looking for it, it was dangerous.

The ritual itself was meant to thin the walls of the Universe, allowing to cross over them, it requires a soul that has to be shatter to scarce it across the walls so it could be used as a silver path, and a vessel, the body of the victim, to anchor all the silver paths to an origin point. So, restoring a shattered soul? Not easy.

Constantine felt like strangling Nyssa, this was a clear example as of why humans shouldn't mess with things they don't fully understand.

"This is why angels don't like us," he said as he studied the situation.

"Can you do something?" Oliver pleaded again and Constantine was nice enough to stop counting how many times he had asked.

"I think so, but you're not going to like it," the exorcist himself didn't like it, "There's a counter ritual for this, more or less..."

Using another soul as a blanket, Constantine could recall the pieces of Barry's soul back to his body and fold them over the other soul, but that implied that there was a soul to use as a blanket in first place.

Of Course Oliver offered his, Constantine knew this was going to happen. He agreed to perform the ritual because he could make a work around to fix most of it, so Oliver was not left soulless as well. He used a great part of Oliver's soul anchor it to Barry, bounding them together. As long as they were close, Oliver will remain himself... for the most part.

Yeah, these kind of work around weren't perfect, but it was temporal... he was going to find a way to fix Barry's soul so they could restore Oliver's back to his body.

He was still working on that.

The whole situation took its toll on Barry, who slowly but clearly detached from the situation by taking to heart one of the many things Ra's Al Ghul told him.

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Granted, they were talking about actual, physical pain and not really addressing the emotional in the sense Barry did, but he still applied it to his feelings, because driving himself to insanity with a smile on his face was far more attractive than breaking down in tears every time he looked at Oliver's eyes and saw nothing but Al Sa-him.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past.

He is forgotten.

(He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ra's Al Ghul reminded him way too much of a broken record.)

* * *

Taking upon archery wasn't optional, all the members of the league were archers, but Barry didn't care about that. Learning archery was the only thing that he actually liked about his dammed to hell training slash not-so-sublet-attempt at brainwashing.

He was concentrating in the target, pulling the string, ready to release the arrow when something jolted inside him and when he let go, the arrow ended up embedded in a tree behind him. Barry blinked several times, took another arrow and concentrated, the jolt away back and when he released it, it ended up in the shoulder of one of the guys watching over him… who happened to be very far away from the target.

In his defense, he didn't like the guy… probably the reason he unconsciously put an arrow in him.

So his speed was gone but he was still a meta-human… and he could teleport stuff.

Interesting.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen is alive only in the past, so on and so for, _yep_ , he's forgotten.

(Kinda… Sorta… Not really. But it's a secret, shssss.)

* * *

His first mission was alongside Nyssa, who looked really anxious even when doing a decent job of hiding it. At least that's the impression Barry got, he was openly staring at her, perhaps that was really making her tense.

"You know," he said as he aimed his bow, "I'm not even angry..." She gave him a long, calculated look, "I'm being _so_ sincere right now."

Nyssa lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, "I did what I thought best."

He remained silent for a moment and then continue, a serious expression on his face, "Even though you _broke_ my heart, and _killed_ me… and tore me to _pieces_."

She blinked, confused.

"And threw every piece into a _fire_!" he smiled, looking way to content, Nyssa moved a few steps away from him. "As they burned it _hurt_ because… I was so _happy_ for you!" he sang while letting go of the arrow, hitting his target in the chest, the man was not dead yet.

Barry jumped from his stop, Nyssa on his trail. The younger assassin apprentice took his dagger from his belt and stabbed the man quickly, ending his life. Stepping away from the dead body, his face was splatter with a blood and he was smiling, but Nyssa stared at him in confusion and that made him roll his eyes.

"You don't get my references, you're boring." Barry looked at his hands in disgust, there was blood under his nails. He picked at it with his teeth and kept mumbling the song.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen yadda, _yadda_ , only in the past, yadda, yadda, blah, _blah_ , forgotten, blah, blah, you get the drill.

* * *

Sometimes, when he looked into Oliver's eyes he could see him and not what Ra's Al Ghul made of him. He could feel his soul, nested inside his chest, a warm, pulsing blanket over his own shattered in more pieces than the stars one.

Those were the good days.

But other days… it was only Al Sah-him and he was possessive, aggressive and wasn't afraid to hurt Barry, to take him and mark him, to remind him that he belongs to him and only him.

And Barry liked it.

Perhaps he should feel bad about it, after all something broke inside him a long time ago, not to mention the whole dying thing, getting your soul shatter and then resurrected as a killing soulless monster only to be kind of fixed but not really and brainwashed into an assassin (or something.)

Still, it was really hard to be angry when Al Sah-him was biting his neck, his fingers roughly removing his uniform, leaving him completely naked while he was still wearing his clothes. Barry panted, a flush spreading from his face to his neck, his hands trembling as Al Sah-him (Oliver! Oliver?) tossed him onto the bed and crawled over him.

"This seems unfair," he mumbled, Oliver (Al Sah-him?) ignored him, taking his wrists and once again using the shackles, Barry moaned a little, earning a chuckled from Oliver.

"You were flirting with your target," the accusation was a hiss against his ear, before a kiss was placed on his skin, followed by a hard nit, dragging his teeth, sucking and biting until a dark bruise was formed.

"He was hot," was the straight answer Barry gave him was he arched his back, the chains rattle while he moved his hands, chuckling.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"You are no f-fun…. ah…" Oliver ran his hand between his thighs, dragging his nails closer to his groin, "A-and are wearing too many c-clothes."

"And you're wearing none," the cold voice remarked, "As it should be, in display for me."

Barry whined in protest, Oliver cupped the back of his head and kissed him hard on the lips, sucking and biting, invading his mouth and placating his attempt for dominance quickly. The kiss lasted until it was hard to breathe and he had to push Oliver to gasp for air.

"O-Oliver!"

There was something there, not Al Sah-him and not Oliver, neither fully, maybe a mix of both, Barry couldn't tell, not when the man over him was spreading his legs and rubbing circles over his entrance, using who knows what was lube.

"You don't flirt with your targets," Oliver hissed, sounding angry as he penetrated him with two fingers, punctuating his words with each thrust.

"Y-Yeah, w-whatever."

Barry closed his eyes, pulling at the chains as Oliver added another finger, fucking him with them, brushing his prostate but not fully giving in, he was making him moan and gasp, teasing him over and over as he drove him over the edge but never really took him there, not yet.

"Say it."

Slowly, Barry open his eyes, Oliver's hard stare on him, three fingers inside him and his gloved hand over the base of his member, applying pressure, preventing him from full pleasure.

"I'm—AH!" he cried out when Oliver removed his fingers only to shove his cock inside him in a single thrust, releasing his member and gripping his hips instead, manhandling him into a position to gain better access, "I'm—"

"You. Are. Mine." Each word was remarked with a thrust, making him gasp and whine, tears of pain and pleasure accumulating in his eyes.

"Y-Yeah… yours."

Oliver took him in his hand, jerking him on time with his thrusts, grunting when he came inside him and overstimulating him to his peak. Barry moaned when he finally found his release, his lover still inside him.

He panted, exhausted and used. There were bruises in his neck and hips, he was sore and once again shackled to the fucking bed, and yet… he felt calm and satisfied, because even as Al Sah-him, Oliver was still his.

He was definitely going to flirt with his next target.

* * *

Bartholomew Allen is mad as a hatter and he loves it. Also, his new name is Nur-Taemia, he only likes it because Al Sah-him gave it to him.

He should pay his friends in Starling and Central a visit, the members of the League are boring, they don't get his references. Well, Constantine does, but he's not in the League, he just comes and goes to check on him because Oliver asked him to, also, he apparently likes him now. He calls him lad and smiles at him in a non-sarcastic way.

Barry decides he likes Constantine; he is totally going with him the next time; he bets Constantine's mission are far more entertaining. Besides, he mentioned something about doing research to fic him and get Oliver back to himself, which is something Barry wants, even when the world doesn't seem so dark anymore.

(is still dark, his situation _sucks_. He's just too tired and a bit insane to brood about it 24/7)

* * *

"So, John…" Barry is sucking on a lollipop, sitting on top of a dead demon while Constantine kills another one, "What's this good news you were talking about?"

Constantine finishes the demon with holy fire, chanting in a language that may be Sanskrit – or gibberish, Barry can't tell – and dusts off his coat, before taking a cigarette and lighting in while walking over to him.

"Yeah, about that… have you ever heard the concept of alternative universes?"

It was a madness, Constantine was well aware of that, but it was all they got and Barry was already mad anyway so… perhaps this could work.

**Author's Note:**

> The Song Barry is serenading Nyssa with it's ["Still Alive"](https://youtu.be/Y6ljFaKRTrI) from the video game _Portal._ While he was joking, the lyric is also fitting to their situation, oopsie.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr by the way, http://yersifanel.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
